This is a continuation of my earlier story PASSAGES, about what happened when the precursor to the drug Viaggro was accidentally (some say) released into an upscale suburban neighborhood.
One of the more bizarre incidents during the night of the suspected aerosol release was the event that transpired at one particular house in the Ethereal Elms subdivision. The investigation owes much its substance to the transcript of video recordings made by one 18-year-old boy named Logan.
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Logan groaned to himself. Oh, come on, he thought!
His mother Cheryl said, “Logan, look, I know you wanted to go hunting with your Dad, but I’m sorry. You have to stay here, and I want you to stay up in your room while I have my club group over. Just play your video games.”
Cheryl was a forty-five-year-old dark-haired woman, still quite appealing at five-foot-ten, and 155 pounds. She was wearing a tight black skirt that came down to two inches above her knees, and a simple white blouse that was pleasantly filled by her large breasts. She was currently barefoot.
Logan said, “Why can’t I go over to Blake’s house and watch some movies? Huh, why not?”
Cheryl, exasperated, said, “Because. Now, no more argument, Logan. There’s still tomorrow for you to go and pal around with your friends.” She looked at the time on her phone. “Damn – the girls are gonna be here in about twenty minutes. I have to get the drinks ready.”
Logan tromped up the stairs to his room. Every month it was the same thing with his mom. She had her neighborhood association meeting with about two dozen other women in the subdivision, where they pretended to talk about zoning issues and other boring stuff, but it was really an excuse to down several pitchers of margaritas and gossip.
Cheryl found her high-heeled sandals and slipped into them. She thought for a minute it was silly to dress up for this kind of thing, but she enjoyed getting pretty and at least pretend to have a social life.
She walked into the family room and there on back to the French doors overlooking the deck. She had opened the doors and set the screens when the cool front had settled in, and she smiled as the breeze carried in a subtle spicy scent.
What was that, she thought, and inhaled again. That’s nice, she reflected. And the odd moment of sensual awakening entered her. “Oh, I think we’ll have some fun tonight,” she thought. She went back to the kitchen and started to gather the tequila and other ingredients to mix the liquid fuel.
Feeling a bit devilish, she took the bottle of tequila, opened it, held it up to her mouth, and took a quick swallow. The warmth spread throughout her body. As she started to pour the mixers into the pitchers, she wasn’t even aware that her nipples were becoming erect.
The first guests arrived shortly after 8. The sky was painted pink as the sun set. The doorbell rang and Cheryl smoothed her dress down her hips, gave a quick glance to the tables laden with snacks and drinks, and headed to greet the first arrival.
When she saw who it was, an expression that wasn’t quite a smile and not quite a frown appeared on her face. Standing there was Paula, a tall slender blonde resplendent in a black cocktail dress that could have been called Early Slut. Her medium-sized breasts were high on her chest, and quite evidently unrestrained by a bra.
Cheryl didn’t particularly care for Paula, and for some reason she was feeling a little more animosity then usual. She said with false brightness, “Hi, Paula – so good to see you! Come on in, darling.”
Paula came in, and bumped her shoulder into Paula’s shoulder. “Oh, thanks, Cheryl – it’s always good to see you!”.
Paula walked further into the living room, then turned around and said, “I’m the first one?”
“Got it in one, dear. Excuse me, I’m going to check on the food. Fix yourself a drink and have a seat.”
Cheryl moved past Paula and back into through the dining room and into the kitchen. She had no real need to attend to anything there – she just didn’t want to spend any more time with Paula than she had to.
She heard tinkling sounds from the living room as Paula poured herself her usual vodka martini. She was wondering if she was going to have to engage in polite conversation when she heard to doorbell ring again. She called out, “Paula, be a lamb and get that for me.”
“Okay.”
Cheryl came back out into the living room as Paula opened to the door to three women. She was pleased to see that it was Maggie and her twin daughters Lucy and Kate. She went up to hug them. Maggie was an exceptionally voluptuous redhead wearing tight violet slacks and a daring top that displayed a generous amount of cleavage. Her two daughters who had just turned 21 wore short pencil skirts, Lucy in vibrant red and Kate in a more subdued black and white pattern. They had on sleeveless matching tops though, white and sheer. Their figures were quite evident.
They made small talk as they walked in, depositing their purses on a desk in the foyer. Cheryl noticed that the twins were a bit short with each other, as if they had recently had a spat. She had a moment and pulled Maggie aside, and whispered, “Are your girls all right?”
Maggie glanced at them, said, “I’m not sure. It’s like they’ve been bitchy with each other for the past few hours. I’m not sure what’s going on. I figured things would be a bit easier since it isn’t so hot anymore, but I don’t know.”
Cheryl said, “I know what you mean. I love the cooler air, but it seems to be making me a little bit antsy. When Paula got here I almost felt like it would be fun…to… I don’t know…slap her.” She took a deep breath, and more of that tantalizing scent went into her system.”
Maggie said, “Oh, I know what you mean. When the girls were getting dressed and squabbling a bit, I was thinking how good it would feel to … to hit them.” That last was in a whispered giggle. “What’s wrong with me? Better get myself a drink.” She headed to the table and picked up a goblet and poured herself some Chardonnay. Lucy and Kate followed, and Cheryl noticed they were scowling at each other.
Unbidden, the thought came to her mind that it would be arousing to see the girls fighting each other. She had a quick vision of them slapping each other and falling to the floor, cursing and slapping.
The doorbell chimed once more and the vision disappeared. She went to the door and opened it to a group of four Black women. They were moderately hefty, and they all had enormous bosoms. Cheryl knew them well – she joking called them the Heifers, but their real name was Hifer. One twenty-five year-old named Callie, daughter of Betty, who was forty-five. Betty was accompanied by her cousins, both pushing sixty, Danielle and Caroline. They wore stylish dresses, filled to bursting with their ample flesh.
Cheryl smiled broadly and bid them in. They chattered a bit, then headed for the table with the drinks.
Over the next fifteen minutes, another dozen women crowded into the house. They talked animatedly about various things, and they all remarked on how wonderful the weather was. They inhaled that spicy scent, gossiped about this and that, and became slightly inebriated on margaritas and wine.
Cheryl glanced around at all the women and started to lay out the snacks. They all crowded around the table and picked up crudités and chips and other delicacies. She headed back to the kitchen, and ducked into the large pantry to bring out some other goodies. She heard a noise behind her, turned, and saw Paula standing by the door. Paula, without a word, grabbed the door handle and pull it shut.
Paula looked at her and said, “I thought we could use a moment of privacy.” The expression on her face was challenging.
Cheryl said, “Oh? What on earth are you doing? Why did you close that door?” She moved forward and stood a foot away from the blonde.
Cheryl wasn’t sure what she was feeling. She felt a tad feisty. She had always had a mixed relationship with Paula. She knew that she didn’t like how her husband remarked one time that Paula was a very attractive woman.
Paula fanned the neckline of her dress. She looked at Cheryl and said, “Did you ever get the feeling that there were things we should have talked to each other about?”
Cheryl said, “What kinds of things?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe about how you’re not really the alpha cat in this neighborhood? Ever think about that?”
Cheryl put her fists on her hips and glared at Paula. “Oh, really? Jesus, Paula, what’s got into you? You come in here spoiling for a fight? This is supposed to be an occasion where we work together, get things done in our neighborhood. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you want us to strip off like low-life sluts and have a catfight!”
Paula breathed deeply, then said, “Oh, don’t you tell me that you haven’t wanted to do that for a while. I could see it. In fact I see it right now!” The blonde woman raised one hand, hesitating.
Cheryl felt a sudden thrill. “Maybe there is something to that. I don’t know…but the thought of fighting you has me a bit … bothered!” She raised her own hand in answer.
The two women stood there in the pantry, hands raised, their breath coming faster. As they inhaled, the spicy smelling chemical went ever deeper into their lungs. Their chests expanded, pushing their breasts out a bit. They each felt their nipples get hard.
Without word, the two women moved forward and their bodies slowly came together. Their breasts compressed against each other, and their exhalations mingled, inflaming their senses.
With a moaning whimper, they slapped each other and tangled their hands in each other’s hair. Reason went straight out the window, and they pulled and struggled, their heads whipping back and forth, totally lost in the moment, like ships onto the ground in a storm.
Paula felt every sense come alive, and she hissed, “At last…at last…at last”.
Cheryl cried, “Ohhh….fight me you fucking bitch…fight me!”
The two sophisticated neighbor ladies fell to the floor of the pantry, legs seeking each other, getting pulled into a catball of fighting lust. They pulled hair and fastened their claws on each other’s breasts, tearing their expensive tops into rags. They felt the sudden shocking collision of naked breasts against each other, and they punched and ripped, making animalistic sounds of fury.
Their flailing limbs knocked boxes and cans off the shelf. One half open box of cereal tumbled shredded wheat over the fighting women, and they ground the crunchy squares into each other’s skin. They rolled around again and again, and felt their panty-clad crotches grind together in their mindless rage, and at the same time knew they were doing something they wanted to do for so long.
As their hard nipples met in their fight, they gasped and fought even harder, knowing that their bodies were somehow betraying them. But they could not help themselves.
The women fought on…. unaware that elsewhere in the house, a massive battle was going on.
To be continued….
